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Music

Unexpected Sounds

“On second thought, maybe I should go to the concert. Even if it is church music played in a church. Or maybe because it is church music played in a church – time to stretch yourself.” Thus were my musings after a friend urged me to attend Capella Romana’s The Vigil this weekend.  Am I glad I did. I cannot even remember the last time I had goosebumps like this while listening to live music. Which tells you a) I had never before heard Capella Romana, b) it was an unusually profound piece of music, sublimely performed all the way through (hard, because it is long and technically quite difficult) and c) I probably don’t go out to concerts often enough.

And so I sat on a Sunday afternoon in a church attempting to hold back tears and racking my brain trying to remember what I knew about Sergei Rachmaninov, about his choral work All-Night Vigil, op.37 just so the emotions wouldn’t overwhelm me.

( you can yourself listen to another glorious (Latvian) performance of the piece here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgBLkrfjjys) 

 

Having now supplemented my meager recall with some reading, I am once again astonished about what some people pull off even if life is beyond difficult. Rachmaninov was born into a rich Russian family in the late 19th century, abandoned by his quickly bankrupted father at a young age and shipped off to live with a music teacher, who soon threw him out of the house. He had not just a way with music both as a composer and as a performer, he also had a way with words. Words that expressed with precision what he experienced as an artist. “I felt like a ghost wandering in a world grown alien. I cannot cast out the old way of writing and I cannot acquire the new.” He said this towards the end of his life, a romantic soul left behind by the modernist ascendence of the likes of Schoenberg, Stravinsky and Bartók, recognized for his amazing skill as a pianist, but derided or ignored for his compositions.

And in fact, his music surges, melodic to the point of forcing you to hum, it flows. And flows. And flows. In fact so much, that the perceptive folks of the choral ensemble created a program that added some sacral music by other Russian liturgical composers that preserved some of the structure of an orthodox All-Night Vigil service, hymns, prayers and psalms that let you breathe between the waves of exaltation.

Rachmaninov did not attend church and his refusal to go to confession made it even harder to marry the woman he courted: because she was his first cousin they needed dispensation from the Tsar, and could only be married by a priest assigned to the military since he reported to the generals instead of the church, who would have prohibited a marriage by someone without confession. After the revolution of 1905 the couple went into self-imposed exile to Dresden, Germany, where he felt disoriented and had difficulty composing. They returned to Russia; later he traveled all over the country to visit soldiers wounded in the first year of WW 1 and in 1915 composed, in response to the tragedy he witnessed and in less than 2 weeks, the Vigil, a choral masterpiece.

He set music to 15 texts taken from Vespers, Matin and Prime; nine of the movements were based on the traditional Russian -Orthodox chant, the rest his own interpretation of this sacral expression. Here is his way with words again: He called these chant-like movements conscious counterfeits. I think I will shamelessly adopt that term for my photomontages, such a perfect expression of appropriation+creation. The piece was quite successfully performed in Russia, only to be prohibited in times of Bolshevik anti- religious fervor after the second Russian Revolution. In 1917 he therefor once again went into exile, this time in the US where he died at age 69 in 1942, after a severely dwindling output as a composer. He is buried in Valhalla, NY, since his wish to be interred in Russia was not fulfilled. Contemporary music criticism of course recognizes the musical genius, better late than never, I guess.

Tidbits, just for the fun of it: Capella Romana was joined by a basso profundo, Glenn Miller, (below center) whose voice and ability to project was a marvel.  (Here he is singing something else that shows youth range: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGLm3eZ3nKY)

Soloist Joseph Muir (on the left) sang lyrically without giving in to the tenor’s temptation to emote – it was a masterfully restrained performance fitting the sacral setting.

And Benedict Sheehan, the conductor, managed to keep all the interlocking parts beautifully transparent, and balanced for the most part. (He also managed to look like the age of my sons, but he himself has 7 daughters. Sometimes you wonder.)

Bonus, for the cinephiles out there: Rach goes to the movies! (A compendium of the many movies that had Rachmaninov’s figure or his music play a role….in addition to echoes in 21st century music – I add to that that Pussy Riot also references his music, while busy avoiding being poisoned, I guess…. see second link below.

http://www.interlude.hk/front/rach-goes-movies/

https://pen-international.org/news/russia-pussy-riot-punk-moleben-put-putin-away

 

Photographs sneaked from my seat in the pews, located in the back given my budget…. since I am now a fan, I’l assume they’ll forgive me for taking those without official permission.

 

 

 

 

 

Fall Prep

Be warned: today’s blog will read like the back of a cereal box, or the kind of placemat factoids meant to keep the impatient kids at bay in restaurants. Then again, you might be dying to start your Friday with new information on snowshoes for birds.

Really, there are some astonishing facts out there about animals in fall, preparing for winter. Seasonal cycles can affect all kinds of things from reproductive and metabolic activities to migration, hibernation and coat changes.

Here goes:

Q: Why do bears hibernate?

A: To drive those of us stumbling to the bathroom in the middle of the night into fits of envy…. did you know they can “sleep” for up to 100 days without peeing? And of course without eating or drinking, slowing down their entire system during food  shortage time, snug in whatever den they found.

 

Q: What is an existential difference between bees and wasps?

A: The former survive hibernation, the latter all die except for the queen. Invertebrates such as mollusks, myriapods, crustaceans, arachnids and the insect family all hibernate – who knew.

Q: Who are the true living dead?

A: Frogs! They often cannot dig deep enough to be protected from the cold under the leaves when hibernating.

“And yet the frogs do not die. Why? Antifreeze! True enough, ice crystals form in such places as the body cavity and bladder and under the skin, but a high concentration of glucose in the frog’s vital organs prevents freezing. A partially frozen frog will stop breathing, and its heart will stop beating. It will appear quite dead. But when the hibernaculum warms up above freezing, the frog’s frozen portions will thaw, and its heart and lungs resume activity–there really is such a thing as the living dead!” 

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/how-do-frogs-survive-wint/

Tell me that is not fascinating.

Q: Do all animals slow down in fall to prepare their bodies for the onslaught of winter?

A: Nope. Deer, boar and bats are seeking mates in fall, elk and moose becoming particularly aggressive.

Q: Why do mammals and birds change color to white in late fall?

A: If you answered: “camouflage in the snow,” you are partially right. More interesting, though, is the fact that white fur, lacking pigment, has more space in its hair shafts. When air fills the empty spaces, it traps the animal’s body heat and provide insulation from the cold. Birds experience a similar benefit when they fluff their feathers, trapping pockets of air close to their body for added warmth. Many animals go through molting, shedding their fur for a generally thicker version. Many of these changes are triggered by length of daylight, not temperatures. Think about the effects of climate change – you’ll go white to escape predators and then there is no snow…..

Q: Heard a bird lately?

A: Probably a robin, they never shut up. The rest of them do, though, since there is no longer a need to call for a mate, or define their territorial borders. And many migrate to warmer climes. Which is also complicated by climate change because many who used to fly south now stay in different territories, upsetting the natural balance in the food chain. Never mind that some of the migrating birds now also have routes open to them through previous permafrost territories that allow them to come to new grounds – bringing with them viruses that we previously did not have to face. Bonus fact: some birds are carnivores in the summer, herbivores in the winter.

And here is one of my favorites: in winter, some grouse dive-bomb head first into powder snow. Completely submerged, their heat creates a sealed dome, forming their very own igloo. Before that, in September, they grow extended scales on their feet, practically functioning as snowshoes!

Thoughts of grouse, particularly sage grouse, were triggered by seeing small patches of sagebrush this week (Have never been able to photograph the birds themselves). Large sagebrush patches are required for their survival, since they shelter the birds and are the one and only source of highly nutritious food during the winter. This puts ranchers, builders and conservationists in conflict – although in Oregon they found a compromised approach that seems to have helped the birds stay off the endangered list. That is until the Trump administration came along and eyed changes….

https://www.opb.org/news/article/oregon-ranchers-conservationists-biologists-debate-sage-grouse-plans/

See them in action in eastern Oregon below the music video that is dedicated to them (although from an initiative in Wyoming. Same different.)

Here is the sage brush in fall  – photographs are of sagebrush landscapes in Oregon and Nevada.

Late September in the Grande Ronde Valley

260 miles east of Portland lies La Grande, a small  town of 13.000 or so people nestled in the Grand Ronde valley, in the eastern foothills of the Blue Mountains. Median income is $39.000 a year, and 91% of the population is white, 1 % black, 4 % Latinos 1.5% Asian and the rest Hawaiian. It was settled in 1861 by immigrants coming along the Oregon Trail

who (violently) displaced the  Native people of the southern Columbia Plateau from the Umatilla, Nez Perce, Cayuse tribes who used the valley to harvest camas root and other plants and to hunt, fish, and trade.

The city grew in the 187os during the gold rush in Idaho and eastern OR, with miners buying up the agricultural produce delivered by La Grande’s farmers. During 1884 the railroad came to town and with it a large Chinese population who stayed on as successful business men after having worked the mines or the railroad. Practically all of them were driven out by a mob in 1893, which looted and burned their businesses and homes, forcibly removing the men and marching them to a railway depot to send them “back home.”  If you wonder about the current politics of some in the place, look at who attends the “freedom Rallies.” This spring Dana Loesch and Sheriff Clark were the guest speakers at a Freedom Rally in a state where Trump won 28 of 36 counties and Republican Greg Walden hopes to hold his power in District 2. The one who voted 99% of the time in line with Trump’s positions, that Walden.

https://www.hcn.org/articles/politics-as-oregons-midterms-approach-divided-sides-dig-in

 

A small liberal arts university is one of the major employer in La Grande, the only one east of the Cascades, and has brought a lot of focus on culture to the region. Most of the tourist traffic, though, is devoted to outdoor activities, including hunters, campers, mushroomers, birders, cyclists, skiers, snowmobilers, and snowboarders.

Count me in on the outdoor tourism. On Tuesday I visited the 6,000-acre Ladd Marsh Wildlife Area, a popular destination for birdwatchers and hunters, and the largest hardstem bulrush marsh in northeastern Oregon, five miles south of La Grande. I really had meant to capture the beauty of the place, not to harp on politics again, so you are perfectly justified in just looking at the photographs. Fall after an intensely dry summer has left his mark in gold, yellow and ochres,

 

 

 

dust blowing everywhere.

Even the bullrush ponds were largely dry, just a few puddles left, attracting the first migratory birds (which will in the spring, when water is back in the marsh, number in the 1000s.)

 

What’s with the pelicans? They follow me everywhere!

Sand hill cranes

Wild antelopes settled under the irrigation lines or close to them, in hope of water. So did the birds and live stock.

 

 

Only the sunflowers gave up.

Music today is accompanying a compendium of images of those who lived here before they were driven into reservations. I do not know the source of the music, or the source of the photographs, but thought we should remind ourselves of our history.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunflowers

Sunflower fields are a gift of fall – particularly for those of us who like to photograph. The colors, the strong forms, the way they attract wildlife all make me visit them again and again. They also seem to elicit a lot of associations from poets, composers, film makers and so on. (My generation will remember Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Sunfloweif only for Mancini’s saccharine musical score that was whistled across all of Europe in 1970.) I’ll spare you.

 

For a poem I chose William Blake’s Ah Sunflower, because it reflects autumnal transience in better ways than I could possibly offer.It also gives me always a kick to read about something that looks like 8 simple lines and then learning what they could possibly stand for. Or, more precisely, how scholars fight over potential meanings. Is the Ah a sigh? Of delight? Of surprise? Of pity?

Your guess is as good as mine, or, come to think of it, probably better than mine. I say this because I was also completely clueless when it comes to the symbolism of the sunflower (again, offered by scholars): a “fallen” human, or persistent love, or frustrated love, or lost innocence, or corrupted love, or poetic imagination, or spiritual yearning, or all of these?”  Oh, (sigh of irritation) the things I don’t know. Here is Wikipedia to the rescue. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ah!_Sun-flower

Attached below are Benjamin Britten’s take on the poem

and a Ginsberg reading of it.

 

I’ll stick to photographing them…..

Autumn

There is a decided smell of fall in the air when walking early in the morning, hints of russet and smidgens of gold in the scorched landscape, and migratory birds starting to appear. I feel, so far, none of the melancholia associated with fall, just plain relief that the heat is over and the rains have come.

During antiquity the Greeks coined melancholia from the words melas and cholé, blackness of the bile. They thought an overabundance of this black bile poisoned you and it was associated with the fall months, the astrological signs of libra, scorpio and sagittarius. If you look up the definition it speaks of deep sadness or gloom. During the middle ages melancholia was touted as one of the deadly sins, to be defied with prayer and willpower. During the romantic age with the emerging celebration (if not cult) of “geniuses,” people took recourse to Aristoteles’ writings, who claimed melancholia was the precursor of mania which enabled all kinds of glorious deeds by philosophers, artists, poets and politicians…

The combination of depression and mania is of course known to us as bipolar disease and indeed, many famous people are said to have lived with it, including Florence Nightingale, Virginia Woolf, Marilyn Monroe,Ernest Hemingway, Winston Churchill, Vincent van Gogh, Buzz Aldrin, Edgar All Poe, Jimmy Hendrix, Graham Greene, Alvin Ailey, John Ruskin, Edvard Munch and Gustav Mahler to name just a few in no particular order. If you Google it, the list is overwhelming – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_with_bipolar_disorder

but the real statistics includes of course many more non-famous than famous people: the World Health Organization considers it the 6th leading cause of disability worldwide, affecting up to 30 million people.

Well, no gloom on this end and no glorious deeds either, even if it is the time of year that has me listen to “fall” music, which often has a melancholy tinge, focussing on the transient nature of things. The only thing I want to think about in terms of transience is that of our current political landscape after the outcome of the November election…but that doesn’t keep me from pulling up my fall play list!

Let’s start with the oboe, with its perfect melancholy sound  – there is a full album with works by French composers dedicated to that instrument, played by one of Germany’s major oboists  – principal oboist at the Berlin Philharmonic – Albrecht Mayer. It is called Bonjour Paris. (And you are better off listening to the clip from it attached below with your eyes closed, because of the inane posing in front of major landmarks.)

Here is Fauré’s Pavane, Op.50  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlsTEgb4FSw

And here is a crisper version with no visuals arranged for oboe and piano this time.

Photographs from my walk last Friday. The pelicans were a true surprise, they are not typically seen in these parts.

 

And the buzzards were waiting to hear the end of the Manafort story….

Linn-Benton Community College Choir

A small two-year junior college located in Albany, south of Portland, has caught my attention – and not only because their mascot is the Roadrunner, a bird I feel at times strangely related too, although in my case it isn’t a coyote that is chasing me….

I had a chance to photograph the LBCC choir members and their conductor, Raymund Ocampo some weeks back.

I had not gathered any information on them, and so did not know at the time that the choral ensembles of this community college in small town Oregon have consistently won prizes, traveled and performed abroad, engaged in workshop with big-name composers and conductors.  All I had to do was listen to them and just acknowledge there was a group making beautiful music.

 

http://www.linnbenton.edu/current-students/student-support/instructional-departments/music1

Not only did they move heartstrings, and easily held their own when thrown in with another choir in joint performance, they also were intensely serious about it, as you can see in the photographs. Many people who go to community colleges have to work for a living at the same time that they pursue a degree. Many students in these rural communities are, in other words, not likely to have lots of extraneous funding and support when pursuing activities beyond the regular curriculum. Their achievements probably require sacrifices that students in wealthier institutions or from wealthier backgrounds do not encounter. The stamina and passion required to pull it all off, then, is remarkable.

And the results speak for themselves (from a performance some years ago in Europe): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiD87OTQqa8

Of course I photograph them when they are busy, badly lit and in constant motion with a camera that is not particularly adaptable to these three factors.

Compare the results to the portraits of one of my favorite portrait photographers from NYC, who specializes in portraits of music performers and moves, needless to say, in very different circles with very different gear.

Laurie Anderson by Ebru Yildiz

Ebru Yildiz is originally from Turkey and now lives in Brooklyn. An incredibly talented photographer who manages to make her subjects feel at ease at the same time that she courts them in ways that make the perhaps feel powerful – at least that comes across for me in her pictures. Then again, maybe these subjects are already so famous that they feel powerful to begin with. Who cares. The photographs are brilliant.

 http://www.ebruyildiz.net

John Cale  by Ebru Yildiz

I wonder what the result would be if one put the young women and men from LBCC in front of one of Yildiz’ lenses. We’ll never know.

They are probably too busy rehearsing, a Mozart Requiem is in the works, I hear, to be performed at the Russel Tripp Performance Center on June 8th. But I still think I captured their dedication.

Adagietto

Today’s bits of beauty are brought to you by Mahler, Visconti, Thomas Mann,Venice and a young Swedish actor who was hailed at the time as the most beautiful boy in the world – person, really, given the androgynous features.

Death in Venice is of course the film I am referring to –  based on Mann’s novel, having someone loosely resembling Gustav Mahler visiting Venice during the time of pestilence and falling in love with a boy. Or into infatuation. Or into lust. Or into an escape from the artistic crisis he is undergoing. Whatever it is, it doesn’t end well. Wouldn’t you know it.

The entire film is a visual feast, from the budding of youth to the decay of man and city. The scenes do not have the technical perfection of what you’d see in anything done in the last 20 years or so, and it makes it, in my eyes, all the more beautiful because it is so real in its impressionism.

All of this speculation really fades into the background due to the beauty of the music: the Adagietto from Mahler’s 5th symphony, the film’s version directed by Zubin Metha.

 I am partial, in this case, to the Karajan version, so here is the link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Les39aIKbzE

 

 

 

and as a bonus, in an arrangement for choir:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YA1c9jZmdag

I am signing off for a while with the regular daily blog, since I will be on the road until May 8th. I might report intermittently if beautiful things come along during this East coast trip.  I am sure they will.

Photographs are from my days in Venice 3 years ago.

 

 

 

Spiegel im Spiegel

For Wednesday  I set out to find a good match of Estonian composer Arvo Pärt’s music with visual images that moved me. I had plenty of choice: his scores have by now graced at least 20 or so major movie productions. In fact, some people argue that it is time to retire him for a bit from the cinematic scene – I totally disagree.

https://www.theguardian.com/film/filmblog/2008/may/29/timetogivepartarest

I found the visual beauty I was looking for in the desert. Filmed in 2003 by Portland’s own Gus van Sant, Gerry depicts 2 men (neither one of whom I care for, to tell the truth) getting lost in the desert of Death Valley. This review of the film says it all: Roger Ebert didn’t like it but admired it. https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/gerry-2003

The landscape shots are spectacular, though, and I have my own photographs from that ethereal landscape to match, which is why I picked it for today. (In fact I cannot begin to describe the beauty of that place, or any desert, for that matter. The colors you see in the photographs are true to reality.)

 

As we learned from the link above, Pärt’s music has been appropriated for The Good Shepherd and Candy, for Shane Meadows’ Dead Man’s Shoes and Cédric Kahn’s Red Lights, for Tom Twyker’s Heaven, Gus van Sant’s Gerry and Carlos Reygadas’ Japón. It’s there in Michael Mann’s The Insider, it’s there to furnish the terrible aftermath of the World Trade Center attack in Fahrenheit 9/11. The score most often used is his early Spiegel im Spiegel, which is brilliantly explained in the article attached below. The music is deceptively simple, but in its repetition becomes practically hypnotic.

 

Infinite reflections: Pärt’s ‘Spiegel im Spiegel’

Here is the full album. Repeat listening will mesmerize.

 

Lacrimosa

 

Tuesday’s beauty goes far, all the way back to the bing bang, in fact. I picked the creation of the universe – scene from Terrence Malik’s 2011 film The Tree of Life since it, too, like yesterday’s film, combines the most beautiful visuals with intensely yearning music. The musical piece is called Lacrimosa. 

Rather than choosing the famous Lacrimosa from Mozart’s Requiem, the director settled on one that was written by a contemporary Polish composer, Zbigniew Preisner. It is part of the Dies Irae sequence of the Latin mass, thoroughly modern, and goose-bump producing, if only for fear of overextension of the soprano’s vocal cord… You can hear the best version here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOOELmx7-R8

 

And here is the film clip from a movie that traces a family history with flash-backs to the creation of the universe – visuals are stunning:

The film maker was keen on having visual effects that were not predominantly computer generated, so they came up with this:

“Working with visual effects supervisor Dan Glass, Trumbull used a variety of materials for the creation of the universe sequence. “We worked with chemicals, paint, fluorescent dyes, smoke, liquids, CO2, flares, spin dishes, fluid dynamics, lighting and high speed photography to see how effective they might be,” said Trumbull. “It was a free-wheeling opportunity to explore, something that I have found extraordinarily hard to get in the movie business. Terry didn’t have any preconceived ideas of what something should look like. We did things like pour milk through a funnel into a narrow trough and shoot it with a high-speed camera and folded lens, lighting it carefully and using a frame rate that would give the right kind of flow characteristics to look cosmic, galactic, huge and epic.”

Epic it is. And beautiful.

Photographs are from the Oregon Coast as it has existed for millennia now.

 

L’ho Perduta

 

 

Time for beauty. Visual beauty, musical beauty, literary beauty, natural beauty. It must be possible to escape this worrisome world for a few moments each morning: so here goes!

We start this Monday with Kaos, a 30 year-0ld film by the Taviani brothers. It contains one of the most uplifting scenes ever, a happy childhood romp paired with one of the saddest songs from Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro, creating a sense of physical freedom and wistfulness that practically vibrates. Watch this! You will thank me.

 

Here is the cavatina sung in full.

 

 

And here is Maslin’s 1986 review of the movie which she calls “effortlessly poetic”  and showers with praise. The film is based on 4 short stories by Luigi Pirandello, who won the Nobel Prize in literature in 1934. He is praised for his ability to convert deep psychological insights into magnificent theatre, paving the way in his often bitterly ironic farces for the theatre of the absurd. (Click on the Times logo)

 

Today’s clip shows a scene from the epilogue of the movie, where the author visits his childhood home, with his mother long deceased, and inquires about her reminiscences of a childhood visit to Malta where her father was exiled. For me it triggered gratitude (independent of awe at the film makers’ craft and the insane beauty of the landscape) since it reminded me of my own glorious memories of past events in my life – something that cannot be taken, even if the actual surroundings no longer exist. So a focus on what remains, rather than what was lost – Mozart’s aria non withstanding.

A raven connects the disparate episodes of the movie – photographs today, then, of crows, the closest approximation.